my caged soul paddles
through oceans of haunted tears
in search of itself
Hi!
Every dream needs a dreamer. So this is the transcendental me, envisioning ‘The Great Indian Dream!’
An alternate me, that exists practically in my mind, as this art fails to express into my reality. My (un)real self is all too easily animated at absurdities of the present; weeps over spilt pasts; and cries for a love both heavenly and immediate. The (un)real me never comes to terms with sadness. He is at war with himself!
But wait! Shouldn’t I be telling you my name is Gaurav Mehra; I was born in 1975- a flesh and bone human being living in Mumbai this day, this month, this year?
But then those are just my temporary coordinates in Space and Time. That isn’t me.
Me is an urban recluse, a dreamy poet, mindful monk, silent seeker, meditative yogi, an A:tmic Transcendental Monk (ATM), or Any Time Muni (ATM), if you will, discovering words and worlds, that roll to me in waves from gods and goddesses of philosophy, poetry, and spirituality.
These are trails of meditations that unify all three.
My Transcendental Lifestyle
In the broadest sense, there exist two kinds of lifestyles –
- Live the Body; or
- Live the A:tman (Soul)
Body (The Sensual Way)
To live the body is to live in a perpetual hothouse of the five senses, namely, Sight, Sound, Scent, Taste, & Touch. These senses are basically programmed to seek nourishment through their specific (shall we call it?) cuisine.
Thus, eyes long to see, ears strain to hear, nostrils seek out pleasant scents, tongue deigns to taste, and skin craves for touch. Straightaway, we’re institutionalized into serving their needs. It’s like charging the laptop or the cellphone, or even an EV car battery. That’s not what we need. It’s what these tools need to function.
And yet, try as we may, eventually we’re hit by the hard truth that fulfilment is not part of the Senses’ program. Although we care for them them daily, still, they weaken through wear and tear, are prone to ill-health and disease, finally culminating in death of the body.
In short, our Senses betray us, ending the oneness of Body and Soul that we nurtured throughout life.
A:tman/Soul (The Transcendental Way)
Instead, A:tman (Soul) is the seat of consciousness in the body cloak. To live the A:tman is a fundamental shift in outlook, i.e. to transcend the body and be aware of the liberation one seeks; to be Master of the Senses, that is, to utilize the Senses in service of the A:tman, not live the body to serve them.
Firstly, know that your body is an Effect. Its Cause (other than your parents having sex) is the conscious life element in your body – your Soul, your A:tman.
Thus, ‘The Transcendental Way’ is first and foremost, to connect with the body’s Cause – the Soul, eventually graduating towards connecting with the Creative Cause of the entire Universe, i.e. Brahma, Universal Energy, Cosmic Soul, God!
Therefore, ATM, that is,
A:tmic Transcendental Muni
- A:tmic = soulful / spiritual
- Transcendental = traveler toward his final destination
(destination of eternal desire); - Muni (Monk) = seeker who realizes the power of
silence
Thus, an A:tmic Transcendental Muni (ATM) is one who utilizes silence, cultivating Freedom of Desire –not freedom from desire! (Consider the difference!)
Transcendental Freedom of Desire
Is the ability to choose what, when, and the extent to which one shall desire! We think ourselves free to do as we please, but then most of us have never investigated into that which shall please us most. Thus, we spend a lifetime being slaves to sensual Desire, walking the material path inevitably laced with Lust, Anger, Greed, Attachment etc.
A Muni aims to transcend this. His/her goal is to master his/her desire.
Philosophically speaking, a Muni is the Soul itself, realizing its true nature through constant practice of solitude, (1 hour in 24 easy does it) resulting in mastery over the excitable Senses.
Simply put, an A:tmic Transcendental Monk is an Any Time Muni, a silent soul chasing the purpose of life.
How my transcendental journey began (sort of)
It’s funny how I started out writing little poems.
You know, a common misbelief is that poetry is all imagination. That, my dear friends, is half-truth. Fact is a poet studies feelings, and feelings are obviously real, not imagination, so never let anyone tell you otherwise.
Chiefly, a poet volunteers to be a subject of feelings, experiencing emotional depths firsthand, knowing in their heart of hearts that this world is a stage, so what harm can it do, right?
As Comedy and Romantic Acts play out, they gain confidence, feeling vindicated even; that is, until they’re hit by a Scene of melancholy, when the dreadful happens, an uncontrollable beast, taking shape, expands and crystallizes, from a minor episode, to a phase, then finally taking over their life.
What is a poet to do when feelings are all they have?
Investigating Sadness
A psychological fact is that when we are happy, we see happiness in everything and every being. When sad, we see sadness floating all around. Our state of mind expresses what is real in our life.
I should always be knowing this. Yet…
What is sadness? Must a Shakespearean tragedy play out in every life? Why, oh why, does sadness catch up with everyone?
Soon I am Alice down a rabbit hole, my mind echoing incessantly – ‘Reveal to me thy cause, O Sadness! Wherefrom dost thou arise?’
My Research Goes Transcendental
I’d been studying classical poetry. It always starts with Shakespeare, doesn’t it? I made acquaintance with Rabindranath Tagore, T.S. Eliot, Rumi, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Kahlil Gibran, William Wordsworth, John Keats, John Donne…
Soon, I graduated to the epics, that is, John Milton, Edmund Spenser, Wordsworth and Tagore again; before finding Italian, Latin & Greek legends– Dante, Virgil, Ovid, Homer.
Following backroads into ancient poetry, I reach the ‘golden sparrow’ -Aryavart, discovering Sanskrit. Surprisingly, the Bhagavad Gita–which I thought I knew from TV serials etc. is as much Poetry as it is Philosophy, not to mention all of the Mahabharata, the Ramayana, Kalidas, the Vedas…
The poetic flow of Vedic hymns/ mantras/ stanzas lulled me like nothing ever before. Its simple, unique wisdom luring me in like nectar to a bee, and before long, I’m tracing the history of philosophy.
From Stephen Hawking’s ‘A Brief History of Time’, showcasing science as the new philosophy; to quantum physics; Einstein, Newton, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Immanuel Kant, Alexander Hume; (I think I start losing my mind); from Confucius and the Tao, to the Greeks– Plato, Aristotle, Pythagoras;
Back to India– Tagore! (I don’t understand how Tagore’s spiritual poetry isn’t more a part of the Indian education syllabus. Is it because they think him too religious? It’s a huge loss at any rate!)
But that’s only the beginning. When you’re studying Indian philosophy, you’re in it for the long haul. I am looking at transcendental saints: Rishis, Munis, Kabir, Chanakya, the Bhagavad Gita, Upanishads, Vedas…
Intrigue turns to stupefaction. Although Poetry and Philosophy display two completely different planes, tracing separate routes all the way back to divinity, yet, surprisingly, both halt at the Vedas. Beyond the Vedas, you find nothing!
Vedas are the Roots of Poetry & Philosophy
How to grieve one Tagore when even the epitome of transcendental poetry and philosophy, that is, the Vedas, remain unread, uninvestigated, unknown?
Also, isn’t Sanskrit the world’s oldest language? And if the Vedas are its oldest texts, then am I not looking at the very origins of poetry? If true, then this is no ordinary discovery. It is an investigator’s wildest ecstasy.
What about the origins of philosophy?
That’s even more mindboggling. Obviously, philosophy originated when the human being first questioned his purpose in the creation. Albeit, that is very much a Vedic enquiry. In fact, it is the main theme of the Vedas.
Something sparks in my soul. Just how old are the Vedas? I must know the truth, yes, but in a scientific, rational, logical way. Besides being a poet, I am very much a philosopher. My honest opinion is that belief ought to follow investigation. Belief must be subservient to Truth!
The Bhagavad Gita clearly points to the Vedas. So does Tagore. And RW Emerson, Immanuel Kant, Max Mueller. Even the Greeks and the Chinese, by way of similarity.
These are the hallowed origins of transcendentalism. It is philosophy and poetry; knowledge and feeling. These are unknown depths of Love, of War, of Peace. And so much more. This can’t be real. It must be a dream.
Thankfully, my Muse is by my side. “You are in meditation, poet,” she says. “Face to face with a transcendental nation.”
Aryavart - Transcendental Nation
We make acquaintance with Aryavart, a conceptual nation that exists even today, albeit deep within entanglements of India’s many names and religions. In essence, a country that needs no geographic land to exist, thus can never be invaded or usurped, only populated or de-populated.
This is the dream of the Maharishis – Aryavart – a nation declaring war on War! A nation of transcending Souls, that is, noble human beings, wherever on the globe they may be. I bestow upon it one ordinary citizen– myself.
ATM Transcendental Investigations
So, what is the Point of Life?
Certain materialists claim it is just ‘Eat, Drink, & Be Merry!’ Others say ‘to each their own.’
Now that is a world of divided opinion. Philosophically speaking, it isn’t poetry at all.
We, at ATM Universes, specifically look at fusion of ideas. Explicitly, our endeavor is to unite, never to divide. So, taking the Vedas’ cue, we begin experimenting by fusing philosophy with poetry, two of the most ancient intellectual pursuits of transcending souls.
In recent times, hardheaded philosophers (Realists), and touchy poets (Romantics), have built a tradition of avoiding the other, clinging fast to their specific domains. Regrettably, they miss the most pertinent truth–that Reality and Romance meet at a point where they both attain perfection; when realization seeps in through spongy pores of mind that the God of Poetry and God of Philosophy are one and the same! That is the spark of enlightenment from where transcendence truly takes off.
Look closely and you will see a philosopher in none other than William Shakespeare. Equally, in Rabindranath Tagore and Rumi! And Edgar Allen Poe or John Donne.
Conversely, wasn’t Confucius also a poet? And Plato? Thus, we know this fusion isn’t new. It is literary heritage.
Then, in 1941, we hear Albert Einstein say so poetically–
Science without Religion is lame, Religion without Science is blind.
…and we think, wasn’t Einstein talking about fusing two worlds?
A Transcendental Quest
Art manifests in souls in most mysterious of ways. It either shines in virtue, or blasts through vice, or guilt, or tears. When all seems lost, it is not so much skill or knowledge than providence, cradling us through storms, transforming our lack of virtue into virtue. That is when we realize the importance of the storm– to underline our Purpose!
Light shows us the way but it is darkness that compels us to find light in the first place.
Two straight lines converged from opposite poles to bring me my Purpose. Poetic waves found philosophical depth, uncovering new Art. A vintage poet reincarnated. An ancient philosopher was reborn. Although this daunting voyage may yet prove to be never-ending, only a fool would wait till the end of time to share their inheritance. Thus, a Muni hides not the vision of their dreams, but reflects its glow to transform the world into a better place. A Muni takes ownership of Duty!
Make no mistake, a great war rages between Darkness and Light. Or even between Silence and Noise. Where darkness and noise have numerous advocates, Silence and Light have few. The Muni must add to these to fulfil his Purpose.
Are you ready to go transcendental and add to Silence and Light? In that case, feel free to reach out to us here where we shall endeavor to help find the Grand Design for you. Remember, all it needs is a spark. By all means, we’re happy to provide that.
This is A:tmic Transcendental Monk (ATM) reflecting poetic philosophy and philosophical poetry to fill what empty spaces whisper in the wind their time has come.
We are no Einstein but we do know this–
